I think Bob Ross was terrific, and made a infinitely greater contribution to “Art” than Kinkade ever will. Why? Because he encouraged people to CREATE. To feel. To look and to see. He stressed that there were no rules, that painting was supposed to be fun and that the decisions about your painting were yours and yours alone.
I am no expert, but didn’t the great masters (Rubens, Rembrant, etc.) have tons of apprentices who painted most of the paintings? The masters would usually just do the faces. In any event, mass production of are is nothing new-Picasso churned out crap by the ton! A few years back, i read a story about the Dutch abstract artist (Willem De Kooning). It seems that when he was very old, his daughter insisted that he not see any visitors-yet his are kep appearing like a miracle-probably thee relatives were having this crap painted by another artist, and getting the (senile) old man to sign them! There is so much money at stake, that even pricipled artists sometimes cheat-there is even evidence that certain of the late mark Rothko’s paintings were done AFTER his death!
Since this thread has started I’ve moved to an area that has a Kinkade gallery within walking distance. Maybe I should head over there with a can of brown spray paint…
My mom, who is very much an artist, hates Thomas Kinkade. She has lots of original works and invests a lot of her time into them. She works with many mediums, including oil paint, pastels, and color pencils, and has in the past worked with enamels and intalgio printmaking, which is a very difficult process. She feels (and I agree) that an artist that makes many prints of their work very easily is destroying its basic value. The prints that she makes are very time-consuming or else are simply color copies if she needs examples of her work for something. She doesn’t use modern print-making techniques for her work because it lessens the legitimacy of her work, or at least that’s how she feels.
For those in the know in the art world, you might be interested to know that her work will be featured in an auction here at BIG Arts (Barrier Island Group for the Arts), alongside the work of Robert Rauschenberg (sp)! So she’s happy.
Thomas Kinkade --painter of ‘what a man with a lit flare in a small house would look like from outside’. He’s a pyromaniac in therapy. I’m sure his doctors are very troubled by his abundant use of the color yellow. Or, maybe he was the guy at Zappa’s house at Montrose with the flare gun.
Like I said-there is nothing wrong with prints…who wouldn’t like a Van Gogh, or a Monet, but can’t afford one-or it’s already owned by a museum? And not all museums can have the same painting…
I wouldn’t mind a Waterhouse print. Especially Ophelia, or the Lady of Shalott.
I like Van Gogh. I like Monet. I like the Waterhouse paintings. My favorite artist is Salvador Dali.
Thomas Kinkade I do not like.
Dali would probably paint Kinkade being murdered by a piano or a skull. Or worse. That’s a lovely thought. Better than one million idyllic little cottages that tell me about Jesus.
Kinkade collections are for the bubblegum card collectors that got too rich for that. At $600 to $1500 a pop for original prints, they are simply speculating on price rises. No one actually likes him, they just believe in the “greater fool” principle that you’re ok in a scheme as long as you’re not last in line.
Reminds me of how top-40 radio sounded when I was young. The songs didn’t feel right except on a couple radio stations. Turns out they would speed up the songs a little to make them appear brighter. Very strange, but I could tell which were the ‘right’ radio stations. After I gave up top40 I never went back. I was about 11.
I think the “painter of light” has crafted a world that is just a little off. When you are in that world, nothing else looks quite right. And those that don’t appreciate it aren’t quite right either. During the Cold War they called it brainwashing.
Just another way to trick you out of your money.
“Fuck art let’s dance”: one of those tiny little new wave buttons worn by an art student trying to get laid in the early eighties.